


Dusk to Dawn

by wrenegade_writes



Series: The Everybody Lives AU [2]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, Book Series: The New Prophecy, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, once i figure out what im doing here, well some people will probably die but only the ones that deserve it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrenegade_writes/pseuds/wrenegade_writes
Summary: Deep in the forest, ThunderClan is thriving. Tigerstar is dead, BloodClan is scattered, and their home is safe again. Everything is just the way it should be; apprentices playing games, elders telling stories, warriors having friendly (and not-so-friendly) spats over border marks.But something is looming on the horizon, and ThunderClan—all the Clans—won’t be safe in the forest for much longer.
Relationships: Brightheart/Cloudtail (Warriors), Brightheart/Cloudtail/Swiftpaw (Warriors), Brightheart/Swiftpaw (Warriors), Cloudtail/Swiftpaw (Warriors), and more once i decide what they are
Series: The Everybody Lives AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035663
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: In case you missed it, this work is a sequel! If you really want I guess you can read it without reading part 1, but I do suggest doing that first. 
> 
> Anyway, I’m back! Earlier than expected, too! This is just a prologue, so it’s short (sorry) but we’ll return to the regular long chapters next Wednesday!

A small, clear pool sits smooth as glass in the center of a misty clearing. Slowly, four cats, sparkling with starlight, emerge from the undergrowth around it, taking their seats in a circle around the pool. As if on signal, dozens of other starry cats file in and settle in the clearing around them, waiting, watching. 

The first to speak is Bluestar. “A new prophecy has come upon our Clans,” she announces. “Everything we have foreseen in the stars is about to be changed.”

Across the pool from her, Deadfoot nods gravely. “I have seen the prophecy as well, and it will bring great challenge.”

Bluestar inclines her head to him, and speaking in the echoing voice of prophecy recites, “ _ Darkness, air, water and sky will come together, and shake the forest to its roots. _ ”

“A great storm is coming,” another voice adds, a ShadowClan cat not many would recognize, inside StarClan or out--Scorchwind. But this night is not about the fame of cats long dead. It’s about the purpose of cats whose lives have not yet begun. 

The word  _ storm _ ripples amongst the gathered cats like falling rain, then grows until it equals the sound of thunder rolling over WindClan’s moors, and then falls away in a rush as Bluestar lifts her tail and the silver pool ripples. 

“We will begin. Every Clan has chosen a cat and put forth a representative to declare their choice tonight. RiverClan will go first. Crookedstar?”

The tabby leader, standing behind the pool, shakes his head and nods to the silver she-cat stepping up to the water's edge. “I’ll stand in for RiverClan,” Silverstream says, and curls her tail around her paws as she stares into the pool. 

The surface ripples again and a gray and black blur rises in the water. The cats of StarClan crane forward as one to look, and Deadfoot of WindClan remarks, “She will not go without her brother, no? RiverClan can’t choose two cats, and you may as well be here.”

“If he insists upon going it makes no difference to me,” Silverstream replies. “What difference does one cat make?”

“You know as well as anyone that one cat can make worlds of difference, Silverstream,” Crookedstar says quietly. “But it is a good choice. She was excellently mentored, wasn’t she, Bluestar?”

“Of course she was,” Bluestar answers stiffly. “StarClan, do you approve of this choice?”

The starry cats murmur amongst one another, first in uncertainty and then assent. The pool ripples once and the image disappears. Scorchwind steps up next.

“I’ll stand for ShadowClan,” he says simply, and stares into the water just as Silverstream had. This time the blur is ginger colored, reddish, and Bluestar nods as it comes into focus. 

“He’s a good cat. Loyal, proud...maybe a bit too proud.”

Scorchwind bristled. “He will serve the prophecy better than any cat in ShadowClan! Pride is not a crime.”

Some cat muttered something about this being the best ShadowClan could do, and Scorchwind spun with a hiss, as did several other ShadowClanners. 

Bluestar waved her tail to quiet them and dipped her head to Scorchwind. “I meant no offense, I only worry it might hurt his relationship with the others on their journey. If this is your choice, it is a good one. StarClan?”

Reluctantly the cats murmur approval and the image ripples away. Bluestar nods to Deadfoot, who steps up. Immediately a black figure appears on the water. 

“But she’s an apprentice!” Scorchwind splutters. “And she isn’t even Clanborn!”

“I know what she is,” Deadfoot replies. “She’s a good warrior, and the Clans would do well to learn the strength of their youth and the wisdom of those outside our borders. She is my choice. You may disapprove if you like, but WindClan will send no other cat.”

“Apprentices should never be discounted based on their age. Our history is full of the bravery of our younger cats,” Bluestar reminds Scorchwind. “And don’t forget the leader of my Clan was once a kittypet, and one of our other chosen cats is half-Clan. Blood means little next to the strength of a warrior’s heart. She’ll do nicely.”

The rest of the cats once again lift their voices in agreement and the shape disappears as Deadfoot nods, satisfied. Finally Bluestar approaches the pool. 

A lean, tawny shape appears on the surface. 

Some cat in the crowd snorts. “You’d choose a cat who wanted to leave her Clan? I wouldn’t have thought ThunderClan approved of disloyalty.”

“She’s as loyal as any cat,” Bluestar says sharply. “Smart, as well, and diplomatic. I think this prophecy needs a dose of cats with paws outside their own Clan, if they are to band together and stop this storm. Now, can we approve this choice, or must we debate every cat that appears in this pool?”

The cat shrinks back into the crowd, but does murmur assent with the rest of StarClan as the shape disappears. Bluestar lifts her head to address the other three cats. 

“Dawn is coming. Go to your chosen cats, tell them of this prophecy in their dreams. We don’t have much time to waste.”

The four of them disperse, bounding away to reach their living Clanmates, and slowly the rest of the starry warriors retreat as well, leaving behind the empty clearing filled with nothing but mist and a smooth silver pool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, especially anyone who stuck with me over the hiatus! You may have noticed I changed a few cats in the prophecy, any guesses as to who’s going on the journey? Once again we will have tagalongs, don’t worry about that. Also, I hear we hate Brambleclaw/star now (yes, I have watched Moon's video, it's amazing), so any other suggestions to give justice to our little red girl Squirrelflight are appreciated. So are requests/suggestions in general! I have the basics of this fic plotted out, but I’m still waffling between a Lot of decisions. 
> 
> Anyway, text wall done. As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	2. Whitepaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I decided that Whitepaw and Tawnypelt will have alternating POVs for this fic, one in the Clans and one on the journey, but I also wanted Swiftscar's perspective on a few events so he'll get a few chapters in here as well! Happy Wednesday everybody.

When Whitepaw wakes up, it's to Tawnypelt shaking her. She blinks sleepily, and then her eyes widen at her mentor’s drawn and worried expression. “Tawnypelt? What’s wrong?”

She’s running through scenarios--an attack, sickness, something happening to the camp, something happening to her parents--when Tawnypelt frowns. “What? Nothing...nothing’s wrong, Whitepaw. We just have dawn patrol.”

“No we don’t. Graystripe said last night, it was, uh, Dustpelt and...some cats. But not us.” Whitepaw closes her eyes. 

“Well, things have changed. The morning air will do you good. Come on.” Tawnypelt nudges her again and walks away, which is Whitepaw’s signal to hurry up and follow. 

Ordinarily she’d protest more--why change the dawn patrol?--but something is definitely wrong, no matter what Tawnypelt says, and Whitepaw knows she likes to work when she’s nervous. So if dawn patrol helps with whatever it is, bad dream or nerves about something or, or whatever, then what can she do but go along with it?

“The morning air would do me a lot more good if I could experience it at a normal time, when the sun was up and it was actually morning,” she mutters as she catches up to Tawnypelt, because hey, going along with it doesn’t mean she has to be excited. 

“Good morning, Whitepaw,” a voice calls to her before Tawnypelt can reply, and she turns to see Swiftscar watching her from the medicine den.

“Morning, Papa,” she says, and he grins at her. “Need me to find any herbs?”

“You just focus on keeping the borders safe,” Swiftscar tells her. 

“But if you happen to find borage, it’d be much appreciated!” Cinderpelt calls from somewhere inside the den. “It’s the little blue flowers.”

“I know! Whitepaw calls back, and then she has to hurry out of camp because Tawnypelt is leading the patrol off without her. 

Dustpelt and Squirrelpaw are there as well, but not Leafpaw or Brightheart. Squirrelpaw looks a little smaller and sadder without Leafpaw next to her, and Whitepaw can’t remember the last time she saw Firestar’s daughters apart. She bounces eagerly up to her and Squirrelpaw brightens considerably when she notices her there, which is nice considering she’s a couple of moons older and Whitepaw’s the youngest apprentice. 

“Hi, Whitepaw,” Squirrelpaw says, “I thought you weren’t supposed to be on the dawn patrol.”

“I thought so, too,” Whitepaw responds, grumbling only a tiny bit. “Where are we going, anyway, WindClan?”

“Yep! Come on, I’ll race you to the border! Last one there is crowfood!” Squirrelpaw cries, and she’s gone before Whitepaw can respond.

She glances over her shoulder at Tawnypelt, but her mentor looks too lost in thought to have even noticed Squirrelpaw is missing. Whitepaw makes a mental note to talk to Swiftscar about it—he  _ is  _ Tawny’s brother—and runs after Squirrelpaw as quick as she can. For having such short legs, the older apprentice is  _ fast _ , and she isn’t used to running half the length of ThunderClan territory. When Whitepaw finally huffs and puffs her way to the border, Squirrelpaw is already waiting triumphantly with her fluffy tail curled neatly around her paws. How she managed the whole run without looking like she was dragged through a bramble bush backwards, Whitepaw doesn’t know. 

She sits down with another dramatic sigh and starts picking leaves out of her pelt and grooming her fur flat again. “That wasn’t a fair race, you got a head start  _ and _ you’re older.”

“Not my fault you’re slow,” Squirrelpaw replied, bumping against her. She leaned over to pull a small twig from behind Whitepaw’s ear. “What’d you do, drag half the forest with you?”

Whitepaw cuffed her muzzle playfully, and they both straightened up as Tawnypelt and Dustpelt arrived. Tawnypelt barely seemed to notice them, heading straight to the border to renew the markings. 

“Is she mad at you?” Squirrelpaw whispered to Whitepaw, watching the warrior go. 

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. She’s been weird all morning, I think maybe she had a bad dream or something.”

“ _ I  _ have bad dreams, and I don’t look like that.”

“Maybe she has worse ones.”

“Will you two stop whispering like old queens?” Dustpelt interrupted. “We’ve got company.”

Whitepaw looked over to see three WindClan cats loping over the moors to meet them. “Yeah? Ooh, and one of them’s an apprentice too!” She nodded towards a smaller black cat in the group. “Squirrelpaw, do you know who it is?”

The ginger she-cat shook her head as the patrol started to slow down and meet them. “No. Only black WindClan cat I know of is Crowpaw.” She wrinkled her nose. “Leafpaw thinks he’s cool, I think, but I don’t like him.”

Whitepaw nodded and the WindClan cats came up to them. She recognized Onewhisker from a Gathering, but the other two were strangers. The apprentice gave her and Squirrelpaw a once over and curled her lip before flicking her tail and trotting off to mark the border. 

“Um, okay,” Squirrelpaw said. “Nice to meet you too, I guess.”

“Don’t mind my apprentice,” Onewhisker told them. “Nightpaw’s not the friendliest cat on the moors. Particularly not this morning.” 

“I’ll say,” Whitepaw added, watching the WindClan apprentice slink back over.

Squirrelpaw stepped forward to try again. “Hi, I’m Squirrelpaw, and this is my friend, Whitepaw.”

Nightpaw looked down at them both again. “Well, at least no cat can say ThunderClan names aren’t fitting. If unimaginative.”

“Nightpaw,” Onewhisker said warningly. 

She flicked her tail lazily. “Whatever. Just back up, Squirrelpaw, you’re on our side. And ThunderClan accused  _ us  _ of trespassing.”

With a low growl Squirrelpaw backed up. “At least ThunderClan apprentices don’t show their fangs to every cat they meet.”

Nightpaw was already padding away, but over her shoulder she said, “Is that why the Clan’s half-kittypet, then?” 

“ _ Nightpaw _ !” Onewhisker hissed, and with an apologetic look at them bounded after her. A little burst of vicious pleasure blooms in Whitepaw’s belly as she watches Nightpaw flatten her ears and duck her head against her mentor’s scolding.

“You okay, Squirrel?” she asks.

Squirrelpaw takes a moment to school her face into a neutral expression and licks at her one white forepaw. “Sure. She says half-kittypet like it’s a bad thing. Like my dad isn’t the best leader in the Clans! And Cloudtail’s one of our best warriors. I’d call it a compliment.”

Whitepaw blinked for a second in confusion before she remembered Cloudtail had been born in Twolegplace, too. Her dad was always so very  _ Clanlike _ , and it’s hard to picture him ever living anywhere but the forest; most days Whitepaw manages to forget about it completely. 

“Well, yeah,” she says finally, “but that doesn’t change the fact that she meant it as an insult. I’m just checking.”

Squirrelpaw shrugs. “Sure. We’d better get going, though, or we won’t make it back to camp till sunhigh.”

“Race you back!” Whitepaw cries, and darts away before the last word is even out of her mouth. 

Behind her Squirrelpaw yells something and she just runs faster. She manages to stay in the lead for a while, but the older apprentice is still faster, and by the time they reach camp Squirrelpaw is a full tree length ahead of her. Just as they reach the entrance, a familiar tortoiseshell and white cat bounces out. 

“Sorrelpaw!” Whitepaw says, pressing against her. “Is it time for your assessment?” 

“Yep! I’ll get my warrior name  _ tonight _ , just you wait!” She glances over her shoulder. “Sandstorm! Come on, I’m not getting any younger!”

Sandstorm’s voice replies, “Don’t rush me, or I might have to fail you on principle.”

Sorrelpaw just flexes her claws excitedly and turns back to Whitepaw. “Hey, you see these flowers? Your papa and Cinderpelt gave them to me for luck.” 

Whitepaw sniffs at the small bundles of flowers tucked behind Sorrelpaw’s ears, and suddenly remembers. “Oh, no, I forgot to look for borage while we were out!”

Squirrelpaw nudges her. “Well, you’re not a medicine cat, are you? They won’t mind.”

“By the way, Squirrelpaw, can you talk to Leafpaw for me?” Sorrelpaw asks. “I think I upset her, maybe? I would, but, I kind of have…” she gestures at the forest around them. 

“Okay,” Squirrelpaw says slowly. “I can do that. Good luck on your assessment.”

“Thanks!” Sorrelpaw calls as she ducks inside. Whitepaw adds her own good luck wishes and ducks inside. 

Squirrelpaw has already found Leafpaw, and as Whitepaw passes she hears her say, “But I couldn’t even tell you were upset! I don’t think, anyway. I was a little distracted.”

“I’m  _ fine _ -“

“Then why were you in the medicine den?”

Whitepaw’s ears prick at that, and she loops around to head toward the medicine den herself. Maybe she shouldn’t pry, but what’s the harm in going to see her papa and her aunt and checking to see what herbs they’ve used recently? Leafpaw  _ is  _ her friend too, and her kin. She’s allowed to be a little curious, at least. 

“Whitepaw! You’re back! Any borage?” Swiftscar asks when she ducks inside.

“No. Sorry. Is everyone okay?” She sniffs at the floor of the den for herbs, scans for blood, but nothing  _ looks  _ out of place. If Leafpaw was  _ really  _ upset they might’ve given her thyme or lavender, but those scents aren’t any stronger than usual. 

“Okay? Sure. Mousefur had a thorn in her nest, and Spiderpaw’s getting over his fever still, but nothing big,” Cinderpelt says. “Ferncloud’s new litter is healthy, too. Why do you ask?”

Whitepaw straightens up. “Nothing. I was just wondering. I’m going to get some fresh-kill, want me to bring you some?”

Cinderpelt hums a little. “I’ll eat later, I want to talk to Firestar first.”

“I’m going to go find your other parents,” Swiftscar said, “but we can all eat together if you want.”

Whitepaw thinks an ordinary apprentice would turn the offer down, protest that they aren’t a kit anymore and they can eat with their friends, but she  _ loves  _ Swiftscar and Brightheart and Cloudtail and they don’t get a lot of time together anymore, especially since Brightheart has an apprentice and Whitepaw’s always out training. So she agrees easily and skips off to the fresh-kill pile. It’s small, since most hunting patrols haven’t returned yet, but she snags a thrush and Swiftscar pulls out a squirrel and a mouse. 

Brightheart and Cloudtail appear while they’re occupied with the prey and the four of them settle down to eat, sharing all the prey between them. 

“Whitepaw, Mousefur and I planned to have a battle training session around sunhigh today,” Brightheart says. “You could ask Tawnypelt to join us, if you want.”

“Sure! Well, maybe. She’s been weird today, I don’t know what’s going on.” Whitepaw pushes some of the thrush’s feathers around in the dirt. 

“Weird?” Swiftscar’s voice is instantly concerned. “Weird how?”

Suddenly Cinderpelt burst out of Firestar’s den, Tawnypelt right behind her and Firestar himself standing in the entrance, looking...concerned. 

“Swiftscar, may I speak with you? Now, please,” Cinderpelt says tautly, limping over to them. As soon as Swiftscar stands she and Tawnypelt hurry toward the medicine den. 

“Weird like  _ that _ ,” Whitepaw tells him. 

“I’ll be right back,” Swiftscar says, and darts after the others. 

Whitepaw can feel some of her Clanmates looking at her. She carefully avoids looking back at them and opts instead for continuing to eat. Slowly the camp activity resumes as normal. 

Later, Whitepaw will remember that moment, and even if all the rest of her life had been set into motion long before, it will still be the catalyst in her mind. The beginning of the end of their world.

-0-0-0-

“Whitepaw, you have to be faster!  _ Shrewpaw  _ may be going easy on you because you’re Clanmates, but someday you’ll be fighting a warrior who doesn’t care if you’re an apprentice or if you’re tired or if you’re hurt,” Tawnypelt says. 

Whitepaw shakes out her fur and lunges for Shrewpaw again. After Tawnypelt came out of the medicine den, she wouldn’t tell any cat what had happened, and Cinderpelt and Swiftscar had been quiet too. It stings; three of her close kin all refusing to speak to her and trying to pretend nothing is wrong. Now, they’re training, Squirrelpaw and Leafpaw and Whitepaw and Shrewpaw all taking turns fighting one another. 

Shrewpaw hits her in the face, forcing her backward, and keeps advancing. Clearly he’s winning; Whitepaw growls to herself and dodges another blow, a second too late as it connects with her shoulder, making her stumble. 

“Whitepaw!” 

She narrows her eyes at Shrewpaw. It’s not  _ her  _ fault he’s bigger and better than she is. Why’s Tawnypelt all of a sudden being so intense about her battle training? 

Squirrelpaw pushes in front of her suddenly. “I’ll help!”

Shrewpaw grins and rears up; Squirrelpaw is much shorter but manages to meet him, anyway. While they grapple Whitepaw seizes her chance and knocks her weight into Shrewpaw’s hind legs. Both of the other apprentices crash down, half on top of her, and when the wriggling and flailing ends she and Squirrelpaw each have a paw planted firmly on Shrewpaw’s chest. 

“Got you!” she crows.

“Only cause Squirrelpaw helped!” he protests. “Good job, by the way, surprise-attacking me.”

Squirrelpaw beams. “Well I couldn’t just let you beat up Whitepaw.”

Tawnypelt interrupts them. “Helping your Clanmates in a battle is all well and good, but it won’t help Whitepaw learn to fight. Leafpaw, why don’t you come over here, we’ll let Squirrelpaw and Shrewpaw spar for a bit.”

“Okay!” Squirrelpaw leaps off of Shrewpaw, and Whitepaw takes a step back as well, staring at her paws. 

No one  _ else’s  _ mentor is scolding them half as much as Tawnypelt is. Whitepaw doesn’t know what she’s doing wrong; maybe Tawnypelt’s just in a bad mood, or maybe it has something to do with whatever happened in the morning. 

Brightheart bumps gently against her as she and Leafpaw come to their side of the clearing. “Don’t take it personally, honey. She just wants you to be able to protect yourself.”

“She could be nicer about it,” Whitepaw mutters, but there’s not much time for complaining. Leafpaw is already waiting for her in the middle of the clearing. 

Whitepaw crouches down and swishes her tail, and on Tawnypelt’s word they leap for one another. Sparring with Leafpaw is easier; she’s still good enough that it’s a challenge, but at least Whitepaw doesn’t feel like she’s being beaten down completely. After a minute or so she even manages to dart up and wrap her paws around Leafpaw’s neck, dragging her down to the ground and pinning her.

Leafpaw’s eyes go wide. “That’s a good move.”

“Thanks,” Whitepaw says, and, well, as long as they’re talking… “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m not  _ that  _ delicate.” Leafpaw wriggles a little under her and then kicks out with her hind legs, hitting Whitepaw square in the belly.

All the air vanishes from Whitepaw’s lungs and she stumbles back, almost falling. “StarClan, you don’t have to do it that hard! And that’s not what I meant, anyway. I heard Squirrelpaw and Sorrelpaw talking.”

“Oh.” They’re dancing around together now, trading words in soft voices and blows far less gently. “That’s, uh, that’s nothing, I’m just thinking about some things.”

Whitepaw dives for her again, aiming to try the same move she had before, but Leafpaw sees it coming this time and slides neatly out of the way. She shoves into Whitepaw and pins  _ her  _ to the ground instead.

“Can’t I know what the ‘some things’ are?” Whitepaw asks. “I mean, I’m your friend, Leafpaw.”

“I haven’t even told  _ Squirrelpaw _ yet. It’s nothing important, anyway, that any other cat has to worry about. Let’s talk about something else, like how easily I’m winning this fight, huh?” 

“No way!” Whitepaw twisted free of Leafpaw’s hold and jumped for her again. 

While they chase each other around the clearing she can almost forget about Leafpaw being strange, and Tawnypelt too on top of it. Almost. And even though at the end Brightheart congratulates them both and Tawnypelt even has a compliment or two, Whitepaw can’t shake the feeling that things are changing in ThunderClan, right in front of her, and she can’t see what they are yet. Something is about to happen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Whitepaw's a darling, I read up on her wiki page for research and...she's a good girl. That's my PSA she deserves more appreciation I think. I'll be back next week with Tawnypelt's chapter, and as always a friendly reminder that comments and kudos are really nice to see and I appreciate all of them.


	3. Tawnypelt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tawnypelt's been having strange dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, but I'm here! A quick note, unfortunately life is a bit rough right now so I'm not responding to every comment like before, but please know I read and appreciate them all! I'll try to answer questions at least if/when they pop up.

_ The whole world has turned to water, and Tawnypelt flails against it, fighting to keep her head above the surface. A wave splashes over her head and she chokes on the bitter taste of salt. Where is she? Where is the land? _

_ In one direction she looks toward the horizon and sees a fiery sun sinking into the water. Twisting away from it, she finds a jagged cliff and a cave, dark and deep. She swims for it, and a voice seems to emanate all around her, repeating words she has heard before. _

A storm is coming. Darkness, air, water, and sky will come together, and shake the forest to its roots.

_ Another wave closes over Tawnypelt’s head, and no matter how madly she kicks for the surface, she only sinks, watching the light grow dimmer over her head.  _

And she wakes, gasping as if she really had been drowning, but completely dry inside the warriors den. Her mouth feels as if it’s coated in salt. She stumbles up and outside; at least today she isn’t up before the sunrise. Not by long, though; the newly-named Sorreltail slides past her and into the den, just relieved from her nighttime vigil. Tawnypelt manages to nod to her and continues on her way. Some cats are still milling around camp, including Brambleclaw. Her brother gives her a strange look when he sees her, worried, and she does her best to shake off the worst of the dream and look like a cat that didn’t just drown in endless water—even if it was imaginary. 

She evidently doesn’t manage well enough, because Brambleclaw comes up to her and touches his nose to her ear. “What’s wrong? You came out of the warriors den like some cat who’d barely escaped a badger attack.”

“Nothing. Just a bad dream.”

“Does this bad dream have anything to do with what happened yesterday, or are you going to keep that a secret from me, too?” The hurt in Brambleclaw’s voice is evident, and Tawnypelt winces. 

She glances around the camp. “Come on. I’ll tell you if you promise not to tell any other cat.”

“Not even Goldenflower?” he asks, like he already knows the answer. And he does; neither of them has ever been able to keep anything from their mother. 

Tawnypelt sighs. “We’ll tell Goldenflower, too. Find her, and then meet me behind the nursery.”

Brambleclaw nods and they separate. Going behind the nursery without looking suspicious is harder than Tawnypelt anticipated it being, but after she wanders around camp a bit she slips back without any cat noticing. Hopefully. 

“Now  _ what  _ could you two possibly be talking about that can’t be said out in the open?” Goldenflower’s voice says, and then she and Brambleclaw appear. “Don’t you trust your Clanmates?”

“Actually I’m wondering that too,” Brambleclaw says, giving Tawnypelt a significant look. 

She frowns at him. “It’s not about  _ trust _ , it’s about not causing a...a panic,” she realizes partway through that that is probably not the best thing to say.

Goldenflower looks alarmed. “A panic? Tawnypelt, what are you talking about?”

She takes a deep breath. “Yesterday night, Bluestar came to me in a dream. She told me a storm is coming, something the Clans have never seen before. She said  _ darkness, air, water and sky will come together, and… _ ” she looks at her paws. “ _ And shake the forest to its roots. _ ”

“Well that sounds like just a  _ lovely  _ prophecy, exactly the sort of thing I want to hear,” Goldenflower mutters. 

“But what about last night?” Brambleclaw presses. “Did Bluestar come to you again?”

Tawnypelt shakes her head. “No. Instead I was in...water. Lots of it, like a big, raging river, except I couldn’t see the banks and it didn’t seem to be flowing very fast in any direction. And….it was drowning the sun. Then I saw a cliff, with a cave, and I heard the prophecy again. The strangest part, maybe, is that the water tasted salty, like nothing I’ve ever found before.”

“A sun-drown-place,” Brambleclaw murmurs. “Do you think that might be the water in the prophecy?” 

Tawnypelt shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. But...I don’t know if that’s it. Something about that cave...it’s almost like I’m supposed to  _ go  _ there, but I don’t see how I can. I don’t know of anywhere with water like my dream. It seems impossible that there’s that much water in the  _ world _ .”

“It’s a big world,” Goldenflower points out. 

Tawnypelt can only shrug again, and for a moment the three of them are silent. 

“What are you going to do? What did Firestar and the medicine cats say?” Brambleclaw asks eventually. 

“They’re calling an emergency medicine cat meeting, to see if any other cats have had similar dreams,” Tawnypelt says. “Poor Swiftscar is going to be gone most of the day visiting the other Clans’ borders to send the message. Cinderpelt would help, but she hurt her leg a bit yesterday when she was collecting herbs and she’s resting it.”

“Oh, poor thing,” Goldenflower says sympathetically. “I’ll have to go keep her company later, it’s never fun being cooped up alone.”

Brambleclaw tips his head to her. “Good idea. Are you going with them tonight, Tawnypelt?”

She shakes her head. “No. First of all, I’m not a medicine cat. Secondly, we don’t want to reveal who I am yet unless other cats have had the same dream, you know, just in case. Of something.”

“Something bad, you mean,” Goldenflower says, her eyes dark with worry.

“Well, storms and shaking the forest to its roots doesn’t exactly sound like a pleasant time, so yes.” Tawnypelt shifts her weight a bit and in doing so catches a glimpse of bright ginger fur poking around the side of the nursery, behind her mother and brother. “Wait a second—Squirrelpaw!”

The fur vanishes, but Brambleclaw is already spinning around to catch her. “Squirrelpaw,  _ what  _ do you think you’re doing?”

The small she-cat creeps back into view. “Um. Looking for the elders den? Which is not here, so, bye!”

“Oh no you don’t,” Goldenflower says, moving to block her. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to eavesdrop?”

“Well, yeah,” Squirrelpaw grumbles, “but you were being so secretive! How was I supposed to ignore you sneaking behind the nursery?”

“It’s easy,” Brambleclaw says, “you just turn around and keep your nose out of other cats’ business.”

“How much did you hear, exactly?” Tawnypelt asks. 

Squirrelpaw at least has the good grace to look guilty, staring down at her paws. “Not  _ that _ , much, really, only….only all of it.”

Of course. “You can _ not _ tell anyone,” Tawnypelt warns. “Not even Leafpaw. Too many cats know already. This is very important, Squirrelpaw, so I need you to listen for once, please?”

She scowled at the last comment but nodded. “Fine. Are...are you really going to the sun-drown-place, though?”

Brambleclaw snorts. “What does it matter if she is? You’re just a nosy apprentice, you’d never get to go.”

Goldenflower hisses a rebuke at him and cuffs him in the head with her paw. 

“Ignore him. I don’t know what I’m going to do quite yet; I guess I’ll have to wait and see what the medicine cats talk about tonight.” Tawnypelt says. “But that’s all I’m going to say about it. You’ve heard more than enough already, and we all have duties to carry out.”

Squirrelpaw sighs and scampers off without waiting for her to say anything else. Brambleclaw watches her go. “You don’t think she’ll tell anyone, do you?”

“Not on purpose. She’s got some growing up to do, but she’s a good cat,” Tawnypelt says.

“A good cat who needs to learn that not everything is about her,” Brambleclaw mutters. Goldenflower hisses a rebuke at him again, but he’s already padding away. 

Tawnypelt sighs as she and her mother follow him. “That went well.”

-0-0-0-

She waits up all night for the medicine cats to come back from their meeting. She doesn’t mean to, exactly, but she lays down in her nest once they leave and finds that her head is swirling too full of thoughts to even consider settling down to sleep, and beneath that there’s the lingering fear of the endless salty water, the yawning cave, the drowning sun. Brambleclaw watches her with worried eyes for a long time until she curls up tightly and feigns sleep, but all that does is leave her awake, alone. 

She pads outside sometime around moonhigh. The moon is close to full--they’re due for a Gathering in another few days. The camp is still and quiet except for Brackenfur on guard, but he seems to be half asleep, or at least not alert enough to notice Tawnypelt wandering the camp. 

There’s nothing to do, so she ducks into the medicine den and sniffs around, trying to tell if any of the herb stores look low for no reason in particular, but after a few minutes the smell is almost too much and she leaves again. Spends a while scratching at the earth and making shapes, useless things, and then tries to lie down and sleep again. Nothing happens, so she wanders more. 

When she pokes her head into the nursery for a quick look she winds up standing there for several long moments, watching Ferncloud’s new kits squirm and wriggle in their sleep. Kits. She always sort of thought she’d want a litter, maybe more than one, but...there was never the right time, never the right cat, and at any rate she’s still plenty young to be thinking about it. Even if Ferncloud is younger than her by a couple of moons.

Tawnypelt shakes her head and walks away, but not without a last soft glance at the sleeping form of Goldenflower. She may want to be a mother, but being a queen permanently is not her calling. Goldenflower does it beautifully, though. 

“Tawnypelt!” Swiftscar’s voice hisses, making her startle and turn as he and Cinderpelt come into camp. “I thought you’d be asleep!”

She shrugs. “Can’t. I was waiting. Did you, um, find out anything?”

Cinderpelt nods eagerly. “Every medicine cat knows of someone in their Clan who’s had the same dream. Thank StarClan no one decided to keep secrets. As far as we know, anyway.”

“So?” Tawnypelt presses. “Who is it?”

“Feathertail in RiverClan, Nightpaw in WindClan,” Swiftscar says. 

“And Rowanclaw from ShadowClan. Good cats, to hear their medicine cats say it. None of them have talked about any dreams of the sun-drown-place yet, though, but that may just be that they didn’t mention it. Or StarClan is only sending dreams to certain cats at certain times,” Cinderpelt finishes. 

Feathertail is a familiar name; Tawnypelt wasn’t alive when she was born, but she knows the names of Graystripe’s kits like any other cat in ThunderClan. Rowanclaw, she’s heard of, mentioned once or twice at a Gathering, maybe, but they’ve never met. And all she knows about Nightpaw is the little she gleaned from the border patrol the day before, which isn’t very much considering she was barely focusing on anything but her dream from Bluestar. 

“So what do the medicine cats think we should do about the prophecy?” she asks. 

Cinderpelt looks away. “No one’s sure, exactly, but they all seem to think that if you were shown the sun-drown-place you need to go there. The only problem is no cat knows where it is.”

“The general consensus is that we need to wait,” Swiftscar adds. “For more dreams, omens, any information. There’s not enough to go on right now.”

“So, what, we just wait? For how long? This storm that Bluestar talked about….what if it comes and we’re still sitting here, looking for a sign that doesn’t exist?” Tawnypelt asks. 

“That’s not what we’re saying. Do you have any idea what you  _ would  _ do, right now, if you had the option?” Swiftscar points out, gently. Tawnypelt has to admit she can’t answer him. 

“Exactly,” Cinderpelt says. “Now get some sleep. I have a feeling things aren’t going to be this calm for long, so you should enjoy it while it lasts.”

Tawnypelt nods, glancing over her shoulder at the warriors den. “Right. Good...Good idea. Thank you for holding the meeting, anyway, even if nothing came of it.”

“We found out you're not the only one receiving this prophecy. That you don't have to do this alone. That’s very far from nothing,” Swiftscar says. 

“I guess. I can talk to the others at the Gathering soon...unless you think that’d be a bad idea,” Tawnypelt says.

Cinderpelt shakes her head. “Not necessarily. Talking too much to one cat from another Clan alone might look...strange, but if you’re careful about it I don’t see why not. Soon you should try to organize a meeting between the four of you, if you can.”

Tawnypelt glances at her sideways. “Really? Is that allowed?”

“Tawny,” Swiftscar says. “All four Clans just received a prophecy about a storm that will, and I quote, ‘shake the forest to its roots.’ Rules aren’t exactly our highest priority right now. Speaking as the cat that’s gotten rules rewritten.”

Cinderpelt bumps against him. “ _ One  _ rule, and a stupid one at that. Don’t get all high and mighty on us. He is right, though. If Firestar has a problem with it, I’ll speak to him.”

“Alright. Then...I guess that’s it? I’ll see you two in the morning?” Tawnypelt asks.

“Yes. That means you actually have to go to sleep this time,” Swiftscar pushes at her shoulder with his paw. “Cant have my only daughter's mentor falling asleep during her training, you know.”

“Of course not,” Tawnypelt says. “Goodnight, then?”

The other two duck their heads in their own goodbyes and Tawnypelt trudges back to the warriors den, at once exhausted and wide awake. Lying down in her nest, sleep still feels as far away as the slice of sky she can see. 

“Bluestar, you’d better know what you’re doing,” she whispers to the stars. 

When sleep does come some indeterminate amount of time later, she dreams of standing on a cliff’s edge, watching the fiery sun drown in water that stretches out forever below her. The air tastes like salt, and when she looks beside her she can see the shapes of cats. Six of them. Some part of her protests that there are only supposed to be three, but the dream half insists that it is exactly right. Everything is exactly as it is supposed to be. She is where the prophecy needs her. 

Somehow the feeling is not a comforting one, and she wakes with the unsteady feeling of the ground rolling like water beneath her, and something dark yawning at her back. 

-0-0-0-

A few days pass, uneventful except for Tawnypelt’s dreams. Some nights she finds herself on the cliffs, others in the churning water, once at the mouth of the jagged cave with a feeling of something so huge and ancient in front of her she can hardly stand it. None of it is a comfort. 

She and Whitepaw are just about to head out hunting when a familiar black cat comes into camp with the returning dawn patrol—out to the WindClan border again, since the hot weather has been making prey scarce on the moors and half of ThunderClan is convinced they’re stealing prey. 

“Ravenpaw!” she says, at the same time as most other cats old enough to recognize him. 

Firestar trots forward with Graystripe, and the three of them bend their heads together for a moment. 

“What brings you here, Ravenpaw?” Firestar asks.

“Not that we’re not happy to see you anyway,” Graystripe adds. “It’s just that you usually don’t come unless there’s trouble.”

Ravenpaw dipped his head. “I know. I wish it wasn’t that way, I should come around here more often if the first thing you think of when I  _ do  _ come is trouble. Even if you’re right, this time.”

“I’m sure you and Barley have more than enough trouble to deal with on your own without trekking out to meet us.” Firestar gestures Ravenpaw towards the leaders den. “But really, what trouble? Something with WindClan?”

Ravenpaw doesn’t move to follow him. “I think this is something all your Clan should hear, if you don't mind me saying so. Twolegs have been acting strangely for days, coming nearer and nearer to all the Clan territories. They have monsters, but none like I’ve ever seen before. Huge and yellow, with claws that tear into the earth and teeth that cut down trees. I don’t know what they’re planning, but it can’t be good.”

Tawnypelt takes a step back in shock, looking down at Whitepaw automatically. Her apprentice is looking back, wide eyed. All across camp cats are wearing similar expressions, looking at one another in fear. Firestar pulls Ravenpaw a few steps away and bends their heads close together to talk. 

This is the storm. Tawnypelt can feel it, in her bones, the way she  _ knew  _ things in her dreams. This is the storm, and there will be seven cats, not four, who go out to meet it. They will go to the sun-drown-place, and they will go into the cave. Everything is starting. 

These are the truths she knows. 

It’s the night of the Gathering. That can’t be a coincidence. She and the others are  _ meant  _ to meet tonight, to talk, to set off on their journey. 

If only they knew where they were going. 

“Tawnypelt?” Ravenpaw asks and she startles a little. While she’d been caught up in her own head he’d padded over to talk to her. “Firestar just told me about your dreams, of the place where the sun drowns. He thought I might know something about it, living with Barley and knowing more about the world.”

Tawnypelt almost doesn’t want the answer, but she needs it. “Well, do you?”

He nods, his violet eyes dark. “I do. I’ve never been there, but Barley used to know cats who have. He told me about it. It’s real, Tawnypelt, and I can tell you how to get there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As per usual our favorite little red cat is getting herself into trouble, which surprises probably no one. Next is a Gathering and finally the plot starts to get rolling.


	4. Whitepaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Gathering night, and Whitepaw makes some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry for missing last week, the holidays got busier than expected and also, I will admit, I’ve been having a rough go of it this month. Things are starting to calm down a bit now, though, so hopefully no more hiccups. Also, this chapter took me like three weeks to write, so sorry if it’s...weird.

Whitepaw bounces excitedly through the forest under the light of the full moon. It’s not her first Gathering, but she’s excited nonetheless. She keeps dodging up to the front of the ThunderClan group where Firestar and Graystripe lead the way, then back to the tail end where all three of her parents keep pace with Cinderpelt, and then up to the middle where Tawnypelt is watching her, faintly amused. Naturally she stops to talk to Squirrelpaw and Leafpaw along the way, as well, but never for very long. 

It’s a _Gathering night_ , after all, the best kind of night. When all the Clans get together and all the most interesting things get shared and she can talk to apprentices from other Clans without risking her ears getting clawed off. And this night, in particular, feels heavy with the promise of something special even if she can’t quite tell what it is yet. 

They’re the last to arrive, but Whitepaw barely notices, skidding into the hollow alongside Squirrelpaw and Leafpaw and immediately starting to search for other apprentices to talk to. 

There’s Nightpaw, of WindClan, but she’s already talking to...Feathertail and Stormfur? A little strange, but Whitepaw just shrugs and keeps walking. Across the way she sees a pale gray tom she recognizes, and bounds over as he pads away from the red tom that must be his mentor. 

“Hey, Talonpaw!” she says brightly. “Remember me? We met last Gathering.”

“Oh yeah, you’re Whitepaw,” he replies. “Also the only ThunderClan apprentice I’ve met. And cats say we’re the unfriendly ones.”

“Well, they just haven’t met the right ShadowClanners yet.” Whitepaw shrugs. “Some Clan cats are just strange like that, don’t want to trust anybody or have any fun.” 

She bumps her shoulder against Talonpaw and he hisses in a tiny breath of air. “Oh! Sorry, did I-“

“Nah.” Talonpaw shakes his head as he rolls the offended shoulder in a small circle. “Landed on it funny in training this morning. Rowanclaw’s been extra tough lately.”

Whitepaw makes a sympathetic noise. “Ugh, tell me about it. I swear Tawnypelt thinks we’re going to war or something, the way she’s been pushing the last couple of days.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, at least. She probably just wants to make sure you do well,” Talonpaw says, and Whitepaw groans again, more theatrically this time.

“You sound like my _mom_ , seriously.”

“Hey, what’s so bad about that?” Talonpaw pushes her with a paw. “I like your mom. I think she’s really, you know, really cool. I can’t even imagine fighting a pack of dogs.”

Whitepaw glances back at the ThunderClan cats. She can’t see Brightheart, but she can picture her still, wearing her scars proudly like the story of everything she’s done is written in her skin. Even knowing it isn’t exactly _easy_ for her parents, and knowing she’d _never_ want to have to do what they did, Whitepaw can’t help but wish, sometimes, that she was even a tiny bit as famous as Brightheart and Swiftscar. The brave, strong, warrior rebel survivors, the only ones to get away from the pack alive. Practically every cat in the Clans knows about them. It’s all Whitepaw ever hears when the subject of parents comes up—and half the time she hears it even when it _doesn’t_. 

“Yeah,” she says quietly, turning back to Talonpaw. “I know what you mean.”

He starts to say something, but Leopardstar steps up on the Great Rock and begins to call the Gathering to order, sucking all the sound out of the clearing in a quick rush. 

“Oh! I’d better go, bye Talonpaw!” Whitepaw tosses half the sentence over her shoulder, already turning to run back to her Clanmates. 

“Hey, Whitepaw!” Talonpaw chases her a few steps. “Don’t worry about Tawnypelt or Brightheart or any of that. You’ll be a good warrior all on your own.”

She shakes her head, but she can’t push down the little burst of pride blooming in her chest at the words anyway. “How would _you_ know?”

Talonpaw shrugs. “I dunno. You just...look it. I can tell. It sounds stupid out loud, but...just take the compliment and go back to ThunderClan so I can stop talking, okay?”

“Got it,” she laughs. “Thanks.”

He ducks his head and they both dart off their separate ways as the last murmured tails of conversations die off. 

Leafpaw is sitting alone as she bounds over, but Squirrelpaw half runs, half tumbles down the slope and reaches her at about the same time Whitepaw does, just in time for Leopardstar to step forward again on the Great Rock. 

“The prey is running well in RiverClan. We haven’t been affected by this dry period so badly, except that the river is shallower than usual. I have also decided to grant WindClan permission to enter our territory and drink from the river due to the lack on water on their land.”

There’s a small cheer from the WindClan cats, and Tallstar dips his head gratefully. Leopardstar raises her tail for quiet and continues. “We also have three new warriors in RiverClan; Tadpoletail, Hawkfrost, and Mothwing.”

Whitepaw starts to raise her voice in approval with the other Clans, but several RiverClan voices start to growl in disapproval. Leafpaw glances sideway at her, questioning, and she shrugs. 

“What’s that about?”

“I think we’re about to find out,” Squirrelpaw says. 

Leopardstar lashes her tail and frowns at her Clanmates. “Why do you protest?”

“Is there something about these three cats you aren’t saying, Leopardstar?” Blackstar asks. “Your Clan certainly seems to think so.”

Whitepaw scans the RiverClan cats. A few of them, like Feathertail and Stormfur, look uneasy but not upset, and in the middle of the group, sitting separated from the others, are three young warriors that must be the cats they’re all so upset about. For her part Whitepaw can’t figure out what’s so wrong with them. 

Leopardstar stays quiet for a moment and then huffs. “I suppose I must tell the full story before rumors begin to spread. About six moons ago now a rogue called Sasha needed help raising her kits. RiverClan took the four of them in. Later Sasha decided to leave us, but her kits stayed behind. They’re as fine a set of warriors as any Clanborn litter I’ve ever seen. However…” she trails off, hesitant, and then more quietly adds, “Mothwing has recently announced her wish to become a medicine cat.”

The clearing explodes at once, such an uproar of noise that Whitepaw cringes away from it, pinning her ears back. Cats all around her, some in RiverClan, some from the other Clans (though she notices, proudly, that no one in ThunderClan is protesting) are yowling at Leopardstar, asking why she would take in rogue warriors. Why she would let one become a medicine cat. 

This is one of the moments Whitepaw _can’t_ forget who Cloudtail is, where he comes from. The fact that all these cats around her think she’s somehow less than them because of where he happened to be born. Leafpaw and Squirrelpaw, too. 

She thinks that maybe if the Clanborn cats stopped to wonder about all the things cats from the outside had to go through just to be seen as half as worthy as them, they wouldn’t think being a former outsider made a cat anything less than strong. 

But they won’t stop to think about that, don’t have the space to do anything but rail about their pure bloodlines and their hallowed earth that must not be tainted by the steps of trespassers. 

Leopardstar finally raises her tail again, glaring at them all, but it’s another long moment before the cats in the clearing quiet down. “That’s quite enough, thank you. Barkface received a sign from StarClan a few days ago, of a moth’s wing outside the medicine den. I will not ignore our warrior ancestors. If Mothwing wishes to become a medicine cat, it is not my place to interfere. And I would appreciate it if the other Clans stayed out of RiverClan’s business, thank you. Our cats and their origins and ranks are of no concern to you.”

There’s a low grumble among the Clans, but no one else speaks up to protest. Leopardstar nods once, satisfied, and takes a step back. 

“I wanna go talk to them,” Leafpaw whispers, nodding towards RiverClan’s newest warriors. “Squirrelpaw? Whitepaw?”

“The leaders are talking,” Whitepaw starts, but Squirrelpaw cuts her off.

“Okay! Let’s go, they’re probably sad a whole bunch of their Clanmates don’t think they should be allowed in the Clan, stupid foxhearts,” she says, the last words dropping into a growl. 

Whitepaw casts one uneasy glance up at the Great Rock, where Blackstar is stepping up to speak, and hurries after her friends. She has to admit, she’s curious about the RiverClanners too.

They just reach the trio when the smallest of them, a black tom with sharp yellow eyes, jumps into their path. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? If you want to snarl at us about coming out of Twolegplace, you missed your shot. Wait till after the Gathering to start a fight.”

“That’s not what we’re doing!” Leafpaw blurts out. “We just wanted to say hello. Trust me, none of us are going to judge you for where you come from. Our father,” she gestured between her and Squirrelpaw, “is Firestar, and Whitepaw’s is Cloudtail.”

“Kittypet born,” Squirrelpaw adds. 

All three cats relax at that, the black tom stepping back a little. “Alright. Well. I’m Tadpoletail, these are my siblings, Hawkfrost and Mothwing. But you probably already knew that.”

“We could guess,” Whitepaw says. “Uh, I’m Whitepaw, obviously, those two are-“

“Squirrelpaw. And Leafpaw,” Squirrelpaw says proudly. 

Leafpaw swishes her tail and glances up at Mothwing, easily the biggest of the three siblings. “So you’re going to be a medicine cat now? Even though you trained as a warrior?”

Mothwing shrugs, but she looks uneasy. “Sure. I mean, no reason why I can’t switch, right? And Barkface needs an apprentice anyway. Plus the sign from StarClan.”

“But you can just...change it?” Leafpaw presses. “Without, you know, being injured or finding out you’re a really terrible warrior or anything, just because you want to?”

“Of course you can,” Whitepaw says before Mothwing can reply. “Swiftscar did.”

Leafpaw frowns. “That’s not the same thing. But I guess...yeah. Okay.”

Out of sight of her sister, Squirrelpaw turns to Whitepaw and mouths _what was that?_

Whitepaw can only shrug. If Leafpaw wants to ask weird questions, she can do that. 

“So why _did_ you three come to the Clans?” she asks. “Six moons ago...it’s not like you were very young.”

“Our mother thought Twolegplace was too dangerous,” Hawkfrost says stiffly.

“We nearly drowned in a flooded Twoleg den,” Tadpoletail adds. His voice is trying to say it wasn’t a big deal, but there’s a fear in his eyes Whitepaw recognizes in her papa and her mother. Haunted. 

“I’m sorry,” Leafpaw says, and it sounds more sincere than Whitepaw thinks most cats would manage. “Is that why you didn’t want to go back? If I can ask.”

Mothwing shakes her head. “We like it in the Clans, actually. More...security. Structure. You always know where you’re going to sleep at night. It’s good.”

“Sasha liked it too, but she’s not cut out for Clan life,” Tadpoletail says with a shrug. “She promised to come visit, though, so that’s good.”

It doesn’t really feel like a conversation with ThunderClan and RiverClan cats anymore. Whitepaw glances at the others, off balance. She didn’t exactly expect to be getting the three’s whole story when she came over. 

Before anyone can scrape up something else to say, Hawkfrost glances up at the Great Rock. “Firestar’s last to speak,” he says, almost a growl. “You three had better go.”

The three of them make quick goodbyes and scamper back to their Clanmates, but all the way Whitepaw notices Leafpaw glancing back at the RiverClan cats. 

“What did you three think you were doing?” Tawnypelt hisses, slipping up next to them. “You’re supposed to pay _attention_ when the other leaders are speaking. What they have to say is important. Wars have been started and ended by Gatherings.”

“We’re not _at_ war now, though,” Squirrelpaw says, a note of a whine sliding into her voice. “WindClan and RiverClan are even _sharing water_ , no one’s going to start a fight.”

Tawnypelt just shakes her head. “You think RiverClan won’t find any way they can to make WindClan pay for that little gift later on? Or frame them as prey stealers and start a fight? They might not even need to frame them, I think WindClan is struggling enough already to try hunting on other territory.”

Whitepaw glances at the other two and over to WindClan. They _do_ look skinny, but whether it’s their usual sort or a lack of prey she can’t tell. 

“What’d we even miss that was so important, anyway?” she asks.

“Tallstar mentioned the drought, but he didn’t say much. Leopardstar wants to discuss it again at the next Gathering, so they’d all better hope there’s rain by then. Some cat even fell in the gorge trying to drink, apparently. ThunderClan’s lucky our rivers are still running. And something about Twoleg scents along the borders and even deeper into the territory-” Tawnypelt breaks off as Firestar announces something about Sorreltail. “That’s our warrior!”

The ThunderClan cats cheer for Sorreltail again, along with some more reserved voices from the other Clans. When they quiet again Firestar dips his head but lingers on the Great Rock while the leaders talk in low voices. 

“ShadowClan’s doing fine, to hear Blackstar say it,” Tawnypelt adds. “But I don’t trust him, so who knows what they’re up to.”

“Why not? He’s a leader, isn’t he?” Whitepaw asks. 

Squirrelpaw nudges her. “Mousebrain! He was _Tigerstar’s deputy_.”

Tawnypelt sighs. “You’re right, Squirrelpaw, but you could be nicer about it.” When the ginger apprentice ducks her head she adds, “Supposedly he’s reformed. But back when I was a ‘paw still I helped rescue Mistyfoot and Feathertail and Stormfur from the old TigerClan camp. Blackstar—he was Blackfoot then—had just killed Stonefur in cold blood under Tigerstar’s orders, and the three of them were next. So I don’t trust him.”

Whitepaw looks up at the Great Rock. Blackstar lashes his tail at something one of the others said and she shivers a little. She’d known Blackstar had something to do with Tigerstar, from stories of the time before she was born, but _that_...what kind of cat could do something like that? She makes a mental note to be careful around their border, and immediately feels guilty when she remembers Talonpaw. Maybe most of the warriors she can give the benefit of doubt, at least. 

“ShadowClan!” Blackstar calls suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. “We’re leaving.”

He leaps down from his perch as the other leaders make their similar announcements, and cats start to leave the hollow. Whitepaw turns and notices that at some point, both Leafpaw and Squirrelpaw wandered away. She thinks they probably just went back to their mentors, until she sees Leafpaw talking to Mothwing again and Squirrelpaw standing with two WindClan apprentices. Nightpaw and Crowpaw? 

“What are they doing?” Whitepaw says, at the same time Tawnypelt says, “Let’s go, or they’ll leave us behind.”

She asks again and Tawnypelt shakes her head. “Not sure. Looks like they’ve made some friends, at least. They’ll come.” She pauses to glance sideways at Whitepaw. “What about you? Any friends in the other Clans yet?”

“Talonpaw in ShadowClan is nice,” Whitepaw says. Tawnypelt makes an odd choking sound and stumbles a step. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. No one else, though? I know you’re not exactly the quiet type, even if you seem like it next to Squirrelpaw.” 

Whitepaw shrugs. “I _like_ making friends in the other Clans. But sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. Someday we’re going to end up on opposite sides of a battle, right? Isn’t that why there’s a code against having mates outside your Clan?”

“Sure,” Tawnypelt agrees. “But it’s not a bad thing to not be at each other’s throats all the time. Don’t worry about it so much, okay? You’re allowed to be friends with who you want. If it comes to a fight no cat will blame you for going a little easy on each other. Happens all the time.”

Whitepaw nods and gives the Gathering hollow one last look. The last cats are climbing up and out, Squirrelpaw and Leafpaw both scrambling after the rest of ThunderClan by now. Gathering night is over, a new moon’s begun. 

So many things are starting to change. Tawnypelt’s secret—she still doesn’t know what it is, and it’s _killing_ her—is hovering like a dark promise in the air all around them. Asking a question they can’t answer yet.

_So what happens now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Even if I reply to most comments anymore, I still read them all and I appreciate everyone who’s still hanging around with me!


End file.
